"Fuck, I'm so famished right now." Denki ran a hand through his hair as he walked into the cafeteria.
The place was buzzing with the usual post-training and class chaos. Class 1A scattered across tables, muscles sore from days of grinding out killer moves, or 'ultimate moves,' as the teachers kept calling them.
Ever since the dorm move-in and the League's attack derailing their summer camp, Aizawa had been relentless: Finish what you started. The Provisional Hero License Exam's coming, and you're not going in half-baked.
Cementoss, Ectoplasm, and Midnight had all been dragged in to drill the class on signature techniques that could give them an edge.
Denki's own moves were getting sharper too, less 'oops, I fried my brain' and more controlled zaps, but damn if it didn't leave him starving.
He spotted Sero and Mineta at their usual corner table near the window and dropped into the seat across from them, slamming his tray down. Rice, extra protein, some mystery veggie stir-fry—whatever, as long as it filled the hole.
Sero looked up from poking at his soba, grinning. "Dude, you look like you got hit by a truck. Killer move training kicking your ass?"
"More like my ass is kicking killer moves," Denki shot back, shoveling food in. "But yeah, my arms are dead. Can't even feel my fingers properly."
Mineta leaned in, eyes glinting with that usual sleazy spark. He waited until they were all settled, voices low over the cafeteria noise, before dropping his bomb.
"Speaking of feeling things... did you guys hear anything weird last night? Like, around midnight?"
Sero raised an eyebrow. "Weird how?"
Mineta's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "Moans. Like, actual moans. Coming from somewhere in the dorms. And this morning? I swear I saw... stains. On the kitchen floor. White, sticky-looking. You know what that means."
Denki nearly choked on his rice. His mind flashed to last night: Tsuyu's legs wrapped around him, the counter creaking, her muffled sounds turning loud when she gripped the edge.
Heat crept up his neck, but he forced a laugh, casual as hell. "Bro, you're imagining shit. Too much porn is rotting your brain. Probably just spilled milk or something. Right, Sero?"
"Yeah, man." Sero snorted, playing along without missing a beat. "Mineta, you need to lay off the late-night scrolling. Kitchen floor? Come on. If someone was banging in there, we'd all know."
Mineta pouted, crossing his arms. "I'm telling you, it was real! I was up getting water—"
"Getting water or spying?" Denki cut in, smirking to cover the panic. "Face it, grape boy. Hallucinations. End of story."
Sero nodded sagely. "Case closed. Eat your food before it gets cold."
Mineta grumbled but dropped it, stabbing at his meal. Denki exhaled internally; crisis averted. For now.
And that's when the universe decided to fuck with him.
A tray bumped his table, hard. Hot tea splashed across Denki's lap and chest, soaking through his shirt in an instant. Scalding pain flared up his thighs.
"Ah—shit!" Denki jumped up, chair scraping loudly.
Monoma Neito from Class 1-B stood there, looking mock-apologetic, hand over his mouth in fake horror. "Oh dear, how clumsy of me. My sincerest apologies, Class 1-A's resident spark plug. I suppose even your electricity can't protect you from a little hot water, hmm? How tragic for the great heroes-in-training."
"What the fuck is your problem?" Denki gritted his teeth, tea dripping down his legs.
Sero quickly shot up and raised his arm, restricting Denki from moving close to Monoma. "Denki, calm down." He faced Monoma. "That's not cool, man. Why do you love being such a prick?"
"T'was a harmless mistake." Monoma just smiled wider, all teeth. "I'll try to be more careful around you fragile types. Wouldn't want to short-circuit the competition before the Provisional License Exam." He sauntered off, chuckling.
"Fuck this," Denki muttered, grabbing napkins to dab at the mess. "I'm gonna clean up. Be right back."
***
"Fucking prick."
Denki muttered one last curse under his breath as he wiped the damp spot on his uniform pants with a fistful of paper towels.
The tea had mostly soaked in now, leaving a faint sticky residue and a red patch of irritated skin underneath. He tossed the wad into the trash, buttoned his shirt halfway, and shoved the restroom door open with his shoulder.
He didn't see her until it was too late.
His chest collided with something solid and soft, and momentum did the rest. Denki stumbled forward, feet tangling, and they both went down in a graceless heap in the hallway.
He landed half on top of her, one palm slamming flat against the floor to catch himself. The other hand? It ended up cupping her left breast through her uniform blouse—firm, warm, the curve filling his hand completely before his brain even registered what happened.
Kendo's eyes went wide. A sharp, surprised gasp escaped her.
"Shit—sorry!" Denki yanked his hand back like it burned, scrambling off her as fast as humanly possible. His face was on fire. "I didn't—fuck, that was an accident, I swear!"
He got to his knees, then his feet, and offered his hand down to her. "Here, let me—"
Kendo took it without hesitation, letting him pull her up. She straightened her skirt with one hand, cheeks pink, but her expression was more embarrassed than angry.
She cleared her throat. "I'm really sorry about Monoma," she said quickly, still holding his hand for a second longer than necessary before letting go. "As class rep, I feel like I should apologize on behalf of 1B. He's… a lot. And the tea was completely unnecessary."
Denki rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool despite the adrenaline and the lingering heat in his palm. "Nah, it's fine. Hot tea's better than cold, right? Builds character."
He flashed a crooked grin. "But seriously, if we weren't stuck in this boarding system, I'd say apology accepted… on the condition of a date. Fair trade."
Kendo blinked, then let out a surprised laugh—genuine, bright, the kind that crinkled her eyes at the corners. "You're ridiculous."
She reached out without thinking, placing her hand lightly on his forearm as she spoke. "Thank you, though. That's sweet. But honestly…" Her voice softened, a little self-conscious. "I don't think I'm on the same level as the girls in your class. They're all so confident, flashy, and beautiful. Uraraka's got that cute energy, Yaoyorozu's elegant and smart, Ashido's always so vibrant, Jiro's cool without even trying… I mean, I'm just… me. Strong, sure, but I don't have that sparkle, you know?"
Denki tilted his head, looking at her properly now. "Kendo, come on. You're underselling yourself hard."
She gave a small shrug, fingers still resting on his arm. "I'm serious. I see how guys look at them. I'm not… I don't stand out like that."
"You do stand out," he said, voice quieter, more sincere. "You've got this whole thing going on—strong, level-headed, and actually kind when most people would just laugh at Monoma's bullshit. And yeah, you're beautiful. Plus, you've got killer hands, literally, and that ponytail? Works for you. A lot."
Kendo's cheeks flushed deeper, but she didn't pull her hand away. Instead, her fingers curled a little tighter on his forearm, sliding up slowly to rest fully on his bicep. She stepped closer, very close. Their shoes were almost touching.
He could feel the warmth of her body and smell the faint citrus of her shampoo mixed with the clean scent of her uniform. Her legs trembled just enough for him to notice, thighs pressing together subtly.
Her breathing had shifted, becoming shallower and quicker. And her eyes… big, hazel, fixed on him with that same heavy, parted-lip stare.
Desire.
Raw and unmistakable.
It was the exact look Tsuyu had given him last night.
Denki's pulse hammered in his throat. "Uh… Kendo? You okay?"
Kendo's lips parted further. Her eyes were glassy, fixed on his mouth, then drifting down his chest. She took a shaky breath, her voice coming out low and husky, thick with need.
"I… I feel so hot," she whispered, almost like she couldn't believe the words were coming out of her. "All of a sudden. My whole body's burning up… down there especially. I can't think straight."
Her thighs pressed together harder, a tiny whimper slipping out. "Denki… can you help me? Please?"
Before he could answer, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand under her skirt. His fingers met damp cotton immediately. Her panties were soaked through, the fabric clinging to the swollen shape of her pussy lips.
Heat radiated off her, slick coating his fingertips as she pressed his hand harder against her mound, grinding once against his palm.
A soft, needy moan escaped her throat. "See? I'm… dripping. I need you. Right now."
Denki's brain flatlined. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants, straining against the zipper.
Logic? Gone.
All he had was the wet heat under his fingers and the way she was looking at him, like she'd die if he didn't fuck her soon. It was a disgrace to him as a man if he didn't fuck a beauty like her.
He yanked his hand back just long enough to grab hers. "Come on."
He half-dragged, half-guided her down the empty corridor, shoving open the door to the nearest unused classroom.
——
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